


Insight

by moorehawke



Category: The Secret Saturdays
Genre: Happy 9th anniversary everyone!, beeman swears but other than that this is very PG, i cant draw so i wrote a series of oneshots instead, pls enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:29:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moorehawke/pseuds/moorehawke
Summary: A series of one-shots celebrating the 9th anniversary of the Secret Saturdays.





	1. Beginnings

Zak’s eyes first start to glow when he turns seven.  
  
It starts in his sleep - a nightmare Fisk wakes him up from because of a pain in his head and _holy shit, the kid’s on fire!_ His panicked yells bring Doc and Drew racing into the room to find a confused and annoyed Zak, the flames already gone.  
  
They don’t believe Fisk at first, but then it happens again, this time when Zak’s awake. A call about a dobhar-chú that’s strayed too close to Dublin brings the airship across the atlantic for a cleanup operation. They capture it, and while they’re loading it into a truck for transport back to its home fen Zak reaches out his hand and the lights flash again. They envelop this eyes and those of the dobhar-chú, then spread to Fisk and Komodo, who still uneasily. A wave of warm air and static rolls out from where Zak’s standing, moving his hair and making his clothes crackle. And then, predictably, he blacks out.  
  
He wakes up with his mum crouching over him, hand on his forehead, and his dad already on the phone to Doctor Bara.  
  
The trip to Australia is great. Zak’s heard all about bunyips and yara-ma-yha-who and can’t wait to learn more. Doctor Bara's lab is up north, near Darwin. It takes him three days to release an official diagnosis; there’s nothing physically wrong with Zak’s brain, except that it’s in overdrive. He diagnoses a few weeks of rest (something Drew rolls her eyes at - how the hell do you tell a seven-year-old to stop running around?) and something about “communing with the Dreamtime to find peace” (this time it’s Doc rolling his eyes, but Drew’s sure to take notes), and then he sends them on their way.  
  
The “rest” is a total failure - Zak refuses to slow down for anything, even superpowers - as is the meditation. Turns out that getting more in touch with his spiritual self only fuels whatever’s affecting him. It’s Fisk that eventually asks them to stop; the sudden pressure in his head at random times of the day disrupts his sleep and more than once causes him to lose his grip while climbing through the trees outside.  
  
Eventually, they settle on the only option left; watch and wait.


	2. Nine Years Later

Zak Saturday is 22 years old and officially an expert on ancient civilisations. He’s got the certificate to prove it and everything: four and a half years in university, plus six months of honours work in Iraq studying Sumerian ruins.  
  
(He never did mention in any of his emails the feeling of _home_ those ruins gave him, like he had somehow arrived at where he was always supposed to be. It hits just a little too close to home after what Kur was - what he almost was.)  
  
Wadi is graduating with him - while he went for archaeology, she did the mythology, graduating with her own Batchelor’s degree and a huge grin plastered on her face. Her father is there to congratulate her, though he never really understood why she would choose an American education over the benefits of a university far closer to the Hassi’s traditional villages. She just smiles, kisses him on the cheek, and tells him she’ll come back once she has her doctorate.  
  
Fisk just about loses his mind at having Zak back home, of course - after 5 years without his favourite brother, he’s long overdue for some more woodland pranks. Apparently, trying to play capture the flag with a komodo dragon and a pterosaur - neither of whom have opposable thumbs - gets really boring after the first seventy or so wins.  
  
The sun’s riding high in the sky when the Saturday family car arrives at the gates of their compound, and despite his five years away, despite school and study and Iraq, Zak feels like he’s finally come home.


	3. Party!

“Happy birthday!” Wadi’s excited yell jumps out at him two seconds before he’s snatched in for a hug. “Are you celebrating?” She asks excitedly. “We must go to dinner! I’ve already called Ulraj - did you know they have a proper satellite connection in Kumari Kandem now? The signal quality is _so_ much better - and he says-”  
  
“Wadi, whoa, slow down!” Zak says jokingly. “I only just got out of Mesopotamian Studies, give me a minute.” He shifts his bag back onto his shoulder from where it’s slipped and straightens his clothes back out, falling into step next to his friend. “What was that about dinner?”  
  
“Well, I just thought,” Wadi begins in that way of hers, “you might like to spend some time with us as a group again! It’s been so long since we’ve all been in the same place at once. And it is your eighteenth birthday - that’s a big deal in the West, right?” Zak nods to confirm it. “Right. So I’ve already scoped out this new Mediterranean place - they do Halal and seafood, it’s great - and Ulraj says he can meet us there at seven. It’s right by the docks, too, and we can get take away so no one freaks out at having a fish boy in their restaurant.”  
  
Zak smiles. “It sounds great, Wadi.” He says. “Give me the address? I’ll meet you there.”  
  
“Actually, I was thinking…” Wadi bites her lip and plays with the fabric of her skirt awkwardly. “Maybe we could walk there together? Before Ulraj arrives?”  
  
“Like…” Zak struggles to find the word. “Like a date?”  
  
“Well I don’t think my father would really approve of me ‘dating’, so let’s just call it a walk.” She says. “But… yes. I guess so.”  
  
Zak’s face splits into a grin. “Wadi, that sounds brilliant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one had me looking up typical Muslim attitudes to interaction between people of different genders, and I tried to respect that while also showing Wadi as very outgoing and determined to break rules and stereotypes. Any comments or criticisms, please let me know!


	4. The Saturday Siblings

“Hey!” Zak yells breathlessly as Komodo crashes into him, racing past with Fisk hot on his heels. Komodo responds with a smug hiss thrown over his shoulder, which he quickly chokes on when he sees how close Fisk is. With a hum of static like an electric eel, he disappears into the undergrowth. A sharp cry pulls Zak’s gaze upward to see Zon swooping wildly overhead.  
  
It’s the summer holidays, and crisp spring mornings at the compound have given way to summer afternoons where the air is baked with hot swirls of breeze and the dry cackle of timber breaks the silence as he steps on it. Zak’s ignoring the stillness of the dry forest and instead is racing between the trees like a liquid shadow, leaving a trail of whoops and hollers echoing in the undergrowth.  
  
Summer is capture the flag season.  
  
Zak reaches to his hip, where the Claw is fastened to his belt, and unclips it. With a grunt of effort, he slings it out to grab Fisk and pull him to the ground, sprinting past. Fisk mutters something that sounds like “lucky shot” as he passes.  
  
Having broken through their parents’ defences - it was so easy to do, his mom and dad are getting slow in their old age - the race is on for whoever can get to the flag first. Forget teamwork. Komodo is going down.  
  
Zak can tell Komodo’s somewhere nearby by the crashing in the undergrowth ahead of him. In the distance, sun glares back from the clearing that surrounds the flag, which swirls lazily in the breeze. He’s got to get there first. Aiming blind, he throws the hand of the Claw into the underbrush and feels the chord pull taut. An angry hiss reaches his ears. _Bingo!_   
  
He presses his thumb against the side of the staff to pull Komodo backwards, but suddenly feels himself flying forwards into the bushes. He has just enough time to register the tree Komodo’s holding onto with all his strength before he crashes into it and thuds to the ground on top of him. Claws in his hair tell him Komodo’s trying to make another break for it, but Zak grabs onto his tail and hooks his ankle over a tree branch. “Oh- no- you- _don’t!”_ He yells.  
  
The snapping of branches and a garbled war cry are the only warning he has before Fisk comes charging through the bracken and runs straight into them, flying head over heels into the dirt. Not to be outdone, Zak drags Komodo back with all his strength and steps over him, racing past Fisk, who promptly snatches at his ankle and drags him down onto the ground again. With another yell, the gorilla-cat gets to his feet, but is tackled by Komodo. Zak sees his chance and runs to the clearing, breaking out of the treeline into the glare of sunlight.  
  
Fisk and Komodo follow only seconds behind, but stop next to him when they reach the clearing.  
  
“You have got to be kidding me.” Zak says, biting back a laugh.  
  
At the top of a mound of grass, with barely a scratch on her, Zon is happily sat next to the flag. She makes eye contact with each of the boys, then plucks the flagpole out of the ground with a happy trill. Then she takes off, soaring back towards the house.  
  
Zak, Fisk, and Komodo sit dumbfounded for a few seconds.  
  
“…Race you back to the house?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, she totally has an unfair advantage.


	5. Headcanon

Arthur Beeman has an IQ of 140 and the worst job in the world.  
  
How bad?  
  
_Babysitting._  
  
The new Saturday twerp is about three and has a solid grasp of fun phrases like “I want that” and “I’m never going to bed ever!”. Even worse, he knows how to use the fucking elevators, which means Beeman’s been running up and down the fire escape stairs trying to keep the little shit contained and as far away as possible from the carnivorous plants Drew insists on keeping on the third floor.  
  
He solved a set of landing patterns written into crop circles only six fucking months ago, why the hell is he not sitting in a mansion somewhere with sixty martinis, the full Star Wars trilogy, and at least twelve barriers between him and any other human?  
  
He contemplates the unfairness of life as he sprints down the stairs for the fourth time that hour. “Right, that is it.” He mutters, making a beeline for the electronic control panel in the wall by the kitchen and yanking a wire out from behind the plastic casing. The lights flicker, and he hears the elevator engine wind down with a dimming hum.  
  
“Hey! Heeeeey!!!” He hears Zak’s yelling start up. First floor. Sweet.  
  
“You overloaded the engine, kid!” He lies loudly. “Sit down and contemplate the complexity of rational integers for a bit, I’m sure that’ll keep you occupied.”  
  
He takes his time about finding a crowbar to pry open the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best headcanon in the world: Beeman was stuck with babysitting when Zak was a toddler until he had a mental breakdown when Zak turned four. The time in 'Guess Who's Going To Be Dinner?' took three hours of persuasion to set up.


End file.
